Patriots

by Max Masen

  Chapter 12:

  But Can I Trust Them?

  I walked the lonely street ahead of me. No one to keep me company and nothing to think about. My thoughts had been devoid for some time. My mind slipped further because of this.

  Two months I had been wandering alone. Or maybe it was three months. I lost track of time after a while. I kept a watch on my arm that I had found in my travels. It was broken, but it was something that reminded me that time was still real and would maybe one day matter again.

  The Hyenas and the government were a distant memory to me. No more fighting but a lot of scavenging. I swapped out my clothes for even heavier ones because of the changing climate. Snow had fallen three days prior. I wish I could say a temperature.

  I had been crawling around in houses for the time I had been wandering. There were people hiding out everywhere too in scattered pockets, just trying to make it somewhere safer. Raiders walked the houses while I hid with others that I didn’t know. We helped each other, each of us knowing we had a common goal: survival. After the raiders left, the strangers and I gave each other a knowing nod and parted ways.

  The path I walked was an expressway. The signs had been taken down for other purposes so I can’t say which expressway I walked. I wasn’t even sure which state I was in.

  The day before I came upon a bridge on my path. I approached it cautiously, bending down and nearly crawling some lengths of the path leading up to it. If I were to go over the bridge I would be heavily exposed. There was no other way around besides down and under the bridge itself. But who knew what was waiting for me below? I didn’t want to chance that. I decided to test my luck on the bridge.

  As I got close to the bridge, I began hearing the distinct sound of gunfire from one side. I saw a man fall from the top of a building on the other. Suddenly, the other side of the street erupted in gunfire as well. Both sides were quickly embroiled in a heated fight that I wanted no part in. Large trucks with mounted guns approached and began returning fire. A small battle had begun and I had no way out. I took cover behind a car. Neither side had noticed me and if they did, I wasn’t a priority for them because neither side had shot at me yet. Please just stay to your sides. Leave me alone.

  I waited it out. Five hours passed and both sides had finally dispersed. The left side had noticeably been drained of soldiers and ammunition so they retreated first. The other side decided not to pursue them and retreated as well. I was alone again. At least they’re gone now. Safe for another night.

  Five more days passed that I walked the path. I came upon a makeshift town in the middle of the expressway. It was attached to a bridge overhead that was being used as cover. There were about five houses made of differing materials. Parts were made of various metals, wood, and signs from the expressway.

  I was weak, tired, and hungry. I didn’t have the ability at the time to decide if approaching this town was a good idea. I pressed on uneasily and barely standing. I heard someone screaming to me. They were telling me to stop. They began shooting at my feet after I disregarded their order. Now they were telling me they were going to shoot me if I didn’t stop. Still I pressed on. I hadn’t much sense to me left by this point. Bullets surrounded me and began littering the ground.

  Clearly they had something important to hide if they could afford to waste bullets. I didn’t have a gun or bullets left at this point. All I had was the sword on my side.

  “S-Stop shooting!” I demanded.

  They must have thought I was drunk or some other form of crazy to be commanding them as I was. They have to let me in. I won’t last any longer out here by myself.

  “We will shoot you!” a man yelled back to me.

  “Do it!” I screamed back. “I got nothing left.” Why did I do that? It’s not too late. I can still turn around.

  I didn’t think they’d actually do it. Nevertheless, I found a large welt and broken skin on my leg from where the rubber bullet had struck me. It had enough power to deliver the finishing blow. I was unconscious for the next two days.

  When I woke up, several people stood in the room with me. They were noticeably dirty and varied in ages.

  “What are you doing here?” a woman stepped forward and asked me.

  “I just wanted to meet your welcoming committee,” I said, still a little delirious.

  “”You’re hungry, aren’t you?” a man asked.

  “Yeah, what do you got?” I asked weakly and with a smile.

  Some of the people in the room began laughing softly at what I was saying. They began getting closer to me as they realized I wasn’t a real threat to them. I could tell they were on guard up until that point.

  “I like your town, y’know? I really do. The houses here have a nice modern look,” I said of their makeshift housings.

  Again, they began laughing. Some were uneasy at what I was saying, but it seemed to lighten the mood a little.

  I started coughing uncontrollably and suddenly. A man stepped forward and propped my back up to help. It didn’t do much good. My cough intensified and my energy levels dropped drastically again.

  “What can we do for you?” a man asked worriedly.

  I couldn’t talk. I could only cough. I shook my head rapidly to tell them there was nothing they could do. A woman appeared with a water hurriedly and I grabbed it out of her hand. I drank it quickly and my cough started to die down a little.

  “Thanks,” I said. “Maybe you guys aren’t so bad after all.”

  “Now that you can talk, where are you from?” a woman asked with a slight suspicion in her voice.

  “I don’t remember, honest,” I said. “I can’t tell you where I’m from or where I’ve been. The signs are gone and I’ve been walking for so long. I’ve met so many people and watched so many more die in front of me. To be truthful, I don’t care where I’m from. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “That’s the most honest thing I’ve heard so far,” a man said, trying to sympathize with me.

  “Yeah,” I said back. I looked at a painting on their wall. It was of a mother and child. Past it were bulletholes littering the wall. “No way to tell anymore where anything is.”

  “How’d you lose your arm?” a woman asked, scared to hear the answer.

  “Lost it in ‘Nam,” I said with a disgruntled voice.

  A few of the people in the room laughed again. A man stepped forward and with a stern face said gently, “Please tell us.”

  “Sure,” I replied solemnly. “A while back we were going into-”

  “We?” a woman asked.

  “My brother and I. Sorry. Anyway, we went into a small, bombed-out town that we had no business being in. Only a former doctor called the place home and he decided unanimously that I needed surgery.” I pointed to my stump softly and continued, “He had went insane sometime after the fall obviously. Desperation. Isolation. A man reduced to his instincts.”

  They nodded in unison and with a tender look about them. “I’m sorry to hear that,” a man said.

  “Can we trust you?” a woman asked me.

  “I don’t know. What does that even mean? Trust. You say that like it still has meaning. I don’t know you. You can trust I won’t try to hurt any of you, steal from you, or whatever else your concerns are,” I proclaimed.

  The people discussed among themselves. They turned to each other and spoke as if I was no longer in the room with them. I waited patiently until I finally broke their conversations by giving a deliberate cough. They turned to look at me.

  “Where were you going to?” a man asked.

  “Someplace safe. I was hoping this was it when I saw it,” I replied.

  “You were right,” said a man approaching from a dark corner. He moved slowly, twisting his entire midsection with each step. “It is safe. Just not for you.” He wore a tophat hanging low which covered most of his face. Only a shadow cast over his visage. He suddenly lifted the hat up to reveal his face.

  What c
ould his comment mean? I thought these people would be different. There has to be a chance I can appeal to them.

  “What is your name?” the man asked me.

  Marley.

  “Dustin,” I replied. I felt weak, scared. Fear of the unknown gripped me and refused to let go once he started talking.

  He looked to me suspiciously and said again: “What’s your name?”

  Marley.

  “I already told you.”

  “You’re gonna give me the real answer this time,” he said sternly.

  “Screw you, my name is Dustin!” I proclaimed emphatically. I perked my body up and gripped the side of the table I was perched on.

  “No, you’re someone else. Someone much more important, aren’t you?” he asked. He gave a menacing smile and walked closer.

  “Why would I be less important if my name was Dustin?! Which it is!” I yelled angrily.

  “Because you’re the savior to millions. You’re the leader of a revolution. Your name is Marley,” he explained.

  “No it isn’t!” I screamed. Why can I not escape this nightmare? When will they not see me as that?

  “You look the part to me. Any pleading won’t do you any good here. You thought you could weasel your way in here, gain our trust? You may have fooled them,” he said and pointed to the people around him, “but you cannot fool me. I remember when they showed your face that day on the news. The day the world came crashing down. I still remember it as clear as your face is to my eyes right this moment. You’re him.”

  There’s no chance I’ll be able to talk my way out of this one. He has his mind set. I have nothing on me to prove that I’m not Marley and there’s nothing I can do to show it either.

  “So now what?” I asked with a silent expression. I’ve accepted whatever comes next.

  “You’ll sleep in the basement tonight. In the morning we’ll transfer you to the closest government outpost. I don’t know what they’ll do with you there. I don’t care either. But I’d say that’s all you need to know,” he said.

  He looked around the room to his peers. They looked back at him knowingly.

  What happens now? What do those looks mean?

  “Take him to the cellar,” the man demanded of the others in the room.

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” I said to no one in particular. I looked around the room as they closed in on me.

  Once again, I was being lifted off of a surface against my will. There were at least five of them that grabbed me. The one that was by my missing arm looked around awkwardly, wondering what he should grab. I waited for him to figure it out. He grabbed my back and lifted me upon realizing there was nothing he could grasp near my shoulder.

  They threw me to my feet and made me walk the length of the house to the wooden door leading to the basement. It was old and had growing mold encrusted on it. I could only wonder what was down there before I was joining whatever it was. I looked to my captors and they showed remorse in their expressions. They didn’t want to throw me down there. This should have made me happy, but it only made me realize that whatever was down they too feared.

  It won’t kill me, though. After everything I’ve been through, I’m convinced nothing can. Maybe that’s why I don’t want it to end.

  “What’s down there?” I asked innocently.

  “You soon enough,” one of them replied.

  We neared the door and a woman stepped forward and opened it. She put me up to it and a bulky man behind me pushed me down the stairs. I hit every step hard and I felt the brunt of the force with which he threw me down the stairs with. My head hit one of the steps and I felt a patch of warm blood grow on the side of my face and then the next step cut through my lip. My back was bruised and the wooden steps splintered through my remaining arm, leaving another trail of blood to cover my jacket and jeans. My hair was disheveled from the tumbling and darkness awaited me at the bottom of the steps.

  Where’s the light? I can’t see anything. I couldn’t observe anything with my eyes but I heard the noises of others breathing. It was soothing but eerie. If I can’t see maybe I’m better off just turning in for the night. It’s the only way to get my mind off of everything. Closing my eyes will be my escape for the night.

  The next morning I awoke to find my legs in chains. The room was empty, despite me having heard people the night before. Where did they go? Was I imagining it to comfort myself? To be honest, I was picturing the others in the room with me as Jed and Levi. Benny and Emily.

  I looked around the dimly lit basement in a futile attempt for an escape route. There was a door but where could it have led? We were in a basement. Were there multiple rooms down there? Could it have led up through a tunnel and out to freedom? I scooted closer to it. I attempted to get to my feet, but I didn’t have enough strength yet. I continued to scoot to the door. Suddenly, I heard the door creak upstairs. It was opening slowly. After a moment of panic, I began reaching for the door even more hurriedly. It was so close, but in my head it seemed so far away. My heart was beating so fast. The door continued to open, even slower now. They’re toying with me.

  I used my arm to push off of the ground to get to my feet. It took all of my strength, but I was able to stand again. The door upstairs burst open. This sent me into a frenzy; I hopped for the door sprightly. Suddenly, the door in front of me unfurled in a rage and hit my shoulder. This sent me back to the ground. I looked up to see the man responsible for putting me down there standing over me. He was staring down at me almost with pity in his eyes.

  “Now what?” I asked. I squinted my eyes from the harsh sunlight coming through

  and creased my brow out of anger.

  “Now what?” he said mockingly. “I want you to stop trying to escape. Just get

  cozy.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dirty water bottle and a pack of beef jerky. I reached my hand out unsteadily and he put the water and beef jerky into my hand.

  I waited a moment and continued to make eye contact with him. He stared back at me. I continued my gaze while I opened the bag of beef jerky and stuck a stick into my mouth. I reached my hand down after for the water bottle and unscrewed the top. The opening touched to my lips and I tilted the bottle upward to drink.

  “Were there people down here last night?” I asked, nervous to hear the answer.

  The man thought for a moment and finally replied: “Yes.”

  “Where are they?” I wasn't entirely sure I was ready to hear the answer.

  “Just… get cozy.”

  After having finished the conversation, he walked back to the door. He opened it and left me in solitude again.

  Just get cozy. I did what he said. I sat on the ground and braced myself for whatever amount of time I would be spending down there in quiet imprisonment. How would I spend the day? How could I? There was nothing in the room with me. No games to pass the time. Why did I think they would be so kind? I’m a prisoner. A prisoner of the war I started.

  You didn’t start it, Dustin.

  “Not you again,” I said aloud.

  “Someone there?” a voice said from past one of the fragile-looking walls in the basement.

  I didn’t know whether to respond or not. Was it real? Was it just in my head? I had to know.

  “Yes,” I replied hastily.

  “What’s your name, boy?” the masculine voice asked.

  “Dustin,” I said back quickly. I don’t know why I talked so fast. It felt like if I didn’t, the voice- my company- would go away.

  “How’d you end up down here?” the voice asked smoothly.

  “They think I’m someone I’m not,” I explained briefly.

  “Yeah, I’m used to that,” the voice said back.

  “What about you? How did you end up down here?”

  “A lifetime’s worth of lying to people. This is karma, I guess.”

  I took pause after hearing his answers. He appeared to be someone who cou
ld relate to me. I finally found someone who could hear what I was saying and understand it too.

  “Did you fight it?” I questioned.

  “What, coming down here? Them throwing me in the basement? Nah. Why would I? This is better than whatever’s up there, right?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked confusedly.

  “There’s cannibals, you know that? There’s people up there that want to eat you. Isn’t that neat, boy?” the voice asked rhetorically.

  “I’ve seen a lot of messed up shit, but I don’t think I could believe that. People resorting to that. Why would they?” I said back.

  “People gotta eat. And when people gotta eat, they either get people to make them food, or people eat people,” the voice elaborated.

  “Makes sense. It’s a bit of a broad summary of the human condition, but it makes sense,” I replied uneasily.

  “Well, I’m sorry I’m not as philosophical as you like. Perhaps you could tell me what it is you see out there,” said the voice to challenge me.

  “I see a world waiting to put itself back together. I see millions of people- if there are that many left- suffering a setback. After it’s over, the next chapter can start.”

  “So this is just a setback. Like the Dark Ages. So you’re the hopeful type, then? Good for you, boy.” His voice started to sound condescending. I need to put a face to this voice.

  “If you have no hope, there’s nothing to live for. So, why are you still alive then?” I said in frustration.

  “Easy. I guess I do have hope. I’m still alive because… well, I guess I don’t know. I’m curious, I suppose. I want to see what happens next as badly as you do. That’s the source of my hope then. Curiousity. You okay with that?” The voice was becoming less aggressive and more friendly.

  “What’s your name?” I asked spontaneously. I scooted toward the sound of it.

  “Did you come here with a large group of people?” the voice asked, ignoring my question.

  “What’s your name?!”

  “How many of them were there?”

  “What is it?!” Why won’t it answer my question? What does it have to hide?

  “Were you related to any of them?”

  “Tell me.”

  “How did they die?”

  “Tell me your name!” I was yelling.

  “Listen, you don’t want to know my name,” the anonymous voice said in reply.

  What could that possibly mean? I stared at the walls with a curious expression for a moment before saying anything back.

  “Why?” I asked in eager anticipation.

  After what seemed like forever with no response, the voice finally said back: “Fine, I’ll tell you. But everything you know is gonna change.”

  What does that mean? What would change from learning a name? “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  “My name is Marley,” the voice said.

  My heart dropped. Marley? Marley who?

  I said back: “Marley? As in…?”

  “The one and only, son,” the voice said in reply.

  “No, he’s dead. Don’t you think I know that?! He’s dead!” I blurted out angrily.

  “Look, I know you think you know-”

  I burst through the wall, effectively interrupting Marley’s speech. I grabbed his throat with my hand and stared into his eyes with anger and passion burning through mine. His beard matched mine. His hair matched mine. His eyes. His hands. His everything. I was looking into a mirror.

  “You son of a bitch!” I said furiously. “You put me through this!”

  “Holy shit, you look just like me!” Marley said back to me.

  “Everything I’ve lost! You! You killed my family! You took away everything from me!”

  “You said your name was Dustin?” Marley asked calmly. “By the way, you can take your hand off now.”

  I slowly released Marley’s neck. I was still in shock and continued to feel the anger boiling inside of me. I wanted to kill him. I at least wanted to punch him. I balled my hand into a fist and raised it slightly. I finally calmed down enough to think rationally.

  “Sorry,” I said. I felt disturbed. My hands shook. I was scared and angry. I wanted to kill him. I really wanted to kill him.

  “Remember a few minutes ago, boy? We were friends, no? Let’s go back to being friends,” Marley suggested.

  “I… Everything you’ve done. Everything that’s happened to me. All of this. Why? You played dead? You played dead?!” I yelled harshly. My entire body was surging with adrenaline, ignoring the aches and pains of my travels.

  “Yes, I played dead, alright? I’m sorry I ruined your life and everybody else’s,” he said unapologetically.

  I punched him in the face upon realizing his lack of sympathy. He fell to the ground hurriedly and I jumped on top of him with my fist raised in the air. He looked back up at me with his hands up to protect himself and his head tilted to the side. He knew he could have overpowered me but he let it play out.

  “You’re not sorry!” I screamed.

  “What are you planning on doing, kid? Punching me until I am sorry? Think this through,” Marley said, trying to reason with me. How can he not feel? After everything he’s done and he’s an empty shell. No compassion, no remorse.

  “I’ve thought enough through. I’ve had nothing but time to think. They thought I was you. They used me to keep the revolution going. I’m you! I could kill you now and no one would ever know!” I shouted. I kept laying into his side and shoulder with my balled fist. He fought it off but didn’t fight back.

  “Dustin. That was your name, no?” Marley asked in distress. “Dustin, I can get us out of here.”

  “After everything you’ve put me through, after all of the lies and death I’ve suffered, you do not get to say my name!” I screamed. But isn’t that what I’ve always wanted? The anger fueled me. I shouldn’t have had enough energy to prolong my rage but something inside, a burning sensation kept me going.

  “Dustin, listen to me!” Marley screamed wildly.

  “What?!” I howled back at him. Nothing he says matters. I can’t let him leave alive.

  “I can get us out of here! I can get us out alive! Remember how you were telling me about wanting to get out alive? You still have hope, Dustin!” he said desperately.

  “I want to leave. But I can’t let you,” I said bitterly.

  Marley took in a deep breath. “That’s it."

  He lifted off the ground almost effortlessly. He raised me up and threw me to the side of the room. My head was spinning from a mix of anger, confusion, and pain. He was saying something to me as he narrowed the gap between us. What is he saying? I can’t focus.

  “Dustin, grab my hand. I’m getting us out of here,” Marley said with an arm outstretched in my direction.

  I reached for his hand after a moment of waiting for my head to feel right again. I didn’t have much choice. I couldn’t bring myself to kill him and I didn’t want to stay in the dim basement, fearing what the people upstairs had planned for us. I did what he said.

  “How are you gonna get us out?” I asked with a hint of doubt.

  “They don’t guard the door well. To be honest, they don’t care much about their prisoners at all. We’re not worth much to them,” Marley explained slyly. He leaned up against the wall and brushed off his tattered jeans and beige henley. He rolled his sleeves up and looked me in the eyes waiting for a response.

  “Don’t they know who we are?” I asked surprisedly.

  “Listen to yourself. Getting too cocky." He was laughing at what I said to him. “Yes, they know. They just have more important things on their minds right now. Everyone does. We’re simply not worth the trouble. It’s not like the government’s going to make sure they’re set for life or anything for turning us over. These people just want to stay alive, just like you and myself.”

  That can’t be too true. The two of us combined would be enough to end the revolution. What if the government d
oesn’t care anymore? What if there is no revolution anymore? It doesn’t matter. I have to trust Marley. It’s my only option if I want to live. “Fine,” I replied. “Let’s go then.” I pointed to the door. He laughed and led me to the entryway the man had come through earlier. We passed through it and went through the tunnel that resided on the other side. While in the tunnel, we could hear what was going on throughout the house. We paused for a moment as we heard a man say, “Yes, we still have them here. Both of them. Tell him we’ll meet with him tomorrow to exchange.” Marley and I gave each other a knowing look and continued on. The tunnel was long and took a few minutes to pass through. Cobblestone lined it and barely any light passed through it. The ground was moist and the ceiling was littered with cobwebs and spiders looking to lunge on top of us. I brushed a few out of my hair toward the end. We had to ensure we were quiet and crouched our way through the extent of the tunnel. Upon reaching the exit, Marley gave the gate a nudge and it remained stagnant. Marley gave me a concerned look. Unlocking the gate was all that stood between us and freedom.

  “Now what?” I asked in confusion.

  “What do you mean?” Marley asked back.

  “There’s a gate here,” I said. I was getting agitated. He could tell. My eyelids started to twitch from a combination of a lack of sleep and frustration and my tone quickly changed.

  “Where?” Marley queried. Right in front of you! Open your eyes!

  I pointed to the gate. Marley gave me a baffled look. I continued pointing at the gate for a few more seconds until he felt his joke had ran its course.

  “Oh, that gate?” Marley asked rhetorically.

  “Yes, that gate!” I said loudly.

  “Oh, well I have the key for that gate,” Marley stated as he unveiled the keys from his pocket. If I didn’t want to kill you earlier I sure as hell do now. No, it’s not me thinking that. I’m just tired. And… I just need to relax.

  I threw my hands up in disbelief.

  “Marley,” I said more calmly now, “where are we going next?”

  He finished opening the gate and replied, “Dustin, wherever you wanna go.”

  I looked beyond the gate and saw the vast scenery lying in wait for us. The world was ours. We had the power to shape the world. I wasn’t fond of my company, but I wasn’t alone. That was all I needed.

  Chapter 13:

  Party of Two